


One Night in Mirkwood

by JHolland



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal, Bottom!Bilbo, Claiming, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Jealousy, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Thorin, Public Sex, Thilbo, Top!Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHolland/pseuds/JHolland
Summary: Thorin hasn't been able to get Bilbo Baggins out of his head since the confounded Hobbit saved his life. His new feelings are entirely unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. And - as the Dwarf soon finds out - not completely unrequited, either.This is literally 100% porn. You have been warned. Also, dub-con if you squint!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Quick warning, this is 100% gratuitous porn with a very slight build up. So if that's what you're looking for, keep reading!

Time moved strangely in Beorn’s home, far removed as it seemed from the world on its doorstep. The first night the company had spent under the shape-shifters roof had, for Bilbo, gone by in sluggish increments, so on-edge was he about the nocturnal creaking and shuffling that seemed to come from all directions at once. The next day passed by in a flash, and the one after that too, then followed two more that seemed an awful lot longer than they actually were. Before long, or after what seemed like an age, a week had gone by.

In the days since the Carrock, Bilbo hadn’t spoken once to Thorin, although he felt the dwarf’s dark eyes on him from time to time. The King’s silence stopped bothering him after a few days when he realised that Thorin spoke little or not at all to anyone else either. Fili and Kili were quick to point out as much.

“Don't worry about him, Bilbo,” Kili said, throwing a comforting arm around Bilbo’s shoulders beneath the cloud of pipe-smoke the three of them were huddled in. Around them, the snores of the other dwarves rumbled through the room and up into the wooden rafters of the shape-shifters house. “He disappears into his head sometimes, he’ll come round sooner or later.”

His brother snorted, fiddling with a tawny braid. “Aye, and then we’ll all be hearing about whatever's bothering him in great detail no doubt. That’s always been the way of things with him.”

Bilbo nodded thoughtfully, feeling slightly less uneasy about the brooding dwarf’s lingering gaze now that he had voiced his concerns aloud. Fili and Kili were the youngest in age amongst their brethren. And as such were closest in age to Bilbo. As a result, and perhaps because of their easy-going temperaments, Bilbo had felt a particular closeness to the brothers since the beginning of their quest.

**

“You ought to be more careful,” Dwalin growled at Thorin the first opportunity he got. They had finally left the shape-shifters home behind and were slowly making their way towards Mirkwood on the backs of thirteen fat-bellied ponies. Dwarves, in all of their opinions, were much better suited to availing of the two feel Mahal had given them for getting about. Being jostled about ceaselessly had put Dwalin in a foul mood, and unfortunately for Thorin, he was the closest one to him. “The hobbit is starting to get all kinds of mad notions. I heard him talking to the Princes last night.”

Thorin swivelled in his saddle to fix the older dwarf with a frown. “What sort of notions?” He forced himself to sound less interested and more gruff.

“He told them you keep watching him, and he thinks your mood these past few days is a result of his own actions,” Dwalin told him. Thorin snorted and shook his head dismissively, spurring his mount on so that he could think in silence.

In truth, his pensive humour had been because of the confounded hobbit. His actions and words on the hillside the week before had been all Thorin could think about. Over and over and over again the memory of it played out in his head. Time after time he saw Bilbo leaping in front of the pale orc to save him, though in truth the hobbit had probably known such an action would result in his own death too.

Since that day, it was as if Thorin was seeing him for the first time only. His hesitant smile, and his shy brown eyes were strange and unusual to the dwarf, who was unused to feeling uncertain around anyone. Perhaps it was just because Bilbo was a hobbit, and he had never really had any dealings with their kind before. The persistent tug in his gut every time he spied the hobbit told him it was more than just that.

They had covered more than three quarters of the distance to the great forest by mid-afternoon. Its vast, dark emerald expanse stretched as far as the eye could see to the north and the south, looming ever closer.

“WARGS!” Dwalin roared suddenly, and as one their company wheeled around on their mounts to see behind them. Sure enough, on the distant horizon but fast approaching, were at least a dozen mounted wargs. Shouts of alarm and anger rose up amongst the dwarves and the sound of blades being drawn rang across the grass.

“To the forest, quickly!” Thorin barked, the urgency in his voice setting the company in motion. The wargs would be upon them long before the reached the eaves, but they stood more of a chance with the forest close to their backs than out here in the open. Gandalf wheeled his own horse alongside Thorin’s and fixed him with a hooded gaze.

“When you enter the forest, take them by the path only. It is very important that you all stick together and do not let anyone stray off course, even for a moment. There are worse things than wargs and orcs beneath the trees of Mirkwood.”

“You’re not coming with us?”

“No I am not, Thorin; there is something I must do before I re-join you.”

“When will you return?” Thorin demanded, glaring at the wizard for his evasiveness.

“As soon as I can. I will try to return before you reach Erebor, but you must depend upon your own skills in case I do not. Now flee, quickly to the forest. I will make short work of these warg riders!”

Thorin peered once more into the distance, where the raiding party of orcs was now much closer. He could see the cruel blades that each rider wore strapped to their back, hilts poking over each shoulder. Gandalf tutted at his inactivity and slapped his horse on its rump, sending it flying across the grass towards the rest of the company.

“Take care of Bilbo, and keep him close! I suspect you already know he is much more than a simple burglar!” The wizard's parting words were peculiar indeed, but Thorin had no time to puzzle over them, for as he sped across the plains towards his companions, it became clear that Bombur was having difficulty with his mount.

The red-headed dwarf was pounding the beast’s barrel-like sides with gusto, but even from a distance Thorin could see that the horse was struggling beneath Bombur's immense weight. They had set a punishing pace already today, and the creature had clearly reached its limit with this flight.

The rest of the company halted only briefly, but were spurred on by Bilbo, although Thorin could not make out what he was saying as he waved the rest of the party into action and dismounted alongside Bombur.

It became clear though, when Thorin drew near, that Bombur’s horse was of no further use and he began mounting Bilbo's own.

“You’ll ride with me, burglar,” Thorin told him gruffly when the rounded on the pair, trying to balance themselves both in a saddle that had been crafted for a single person only half Bombur's size. “And bring your bags. You’ll lame that horse before you make it a mile.”

Bilbo reddened at the tone and chastising words, but slid off the mount in compliance and thrust his belongings up to Thorin, who fixed them behind him in the saddle and held down and hand to the hobbit. For a moment, Bilbo hesitated, clearly at a loss for how to mount the horse with Thorin already on it and keep his dignity at the same time.

Thorin growled, low in his throat, and swiped for the hobbit in a motion that nearly had him toppling to the ground, though he'd never admit it. His hand swallowed the hobbits much (softer) smaller one in an instant and before Bilbo could react he was soaring up through the air and into Thorin's lap.

With a yelp, Bilbo sunk both hands into the horse’s shaggy mane and Thorin spread his thighs even further so that the hobbit could sink down into the space between them and onto the saddle. He did his best to ignore the fact that the hobbit's soft little bum was pressed flush against his own suddenly sensitive nether region. He was glad Bilbo was facing away from him, because his face flooded bright red and he had to bite his tongue to stop from grunting in response to the friction.

He dug his heels into the horse’s flank and set her off at a gallop towards the others. The nature of their pace had him hunching forward automatically, caging Bilbo with his arms and legs. He was pressed so closely behind him, in fact, that the hobbits head was just below his shoulder, and the soft brown curls in top of it tickled his nose every time he glanced down. Despite the urgency of their flight, Thorin couldn't help but notice that the hobbit still smelled sweetly of the honeyed soap from Beorn’s home, and beneath that, something clean and homely smelling. Something that was decidedly Bilbo.

Thorin cursed himself under his breath, and cursed the hobbit too. When had he allowed himself to become so soft? How had the blasted hobbit gotten so far under his skin in the space of a few days. A few days wherein Thorin had tried his best to steer clear of those warm brown eyes and reluctant smile.

He had to stifle another groan as the hobbit slipped further back on the saddle, pressing his backside into Thorin’s groin even more. The motion of the horse beneath them meant that Thorin was all but rutting against the cloth-covered cleft of Bilbo’s tantalising arse. Indeed, he was painfully aware of the blood throbbing into his cock with every jostle of the hobbit in front of him. He scooted himself as far back as he could go, narrowing his thighs to put as much distance between the perfectly rounded behind in front of him and his own traitorous cock. It was obvious that the hobbit had no idea of the effect he was having on Thorin, because if he had he’d have yelled in alarm at the feeling of the thick dwarf dick pressed against him, or thrown himself off the horse in fright.

**

The path through Mirkwood indeed twisted and turned like a knotted ribbon, sometimes veering sharply left or right, or doubling back on itself, or winding up and around little hills in the forest only to find its way back down and not ten paces from where it had started going up in the first place. It was no surprise to Thorin, though; it was an Elven road, made by minds sharpened by treachery and deceit.

When they stopped for the night there was little in the way of a hot dinner. Mostly it was dried meat, stale bread and hard cheese they'd taken from Beorn’s. Besides, the thought of a fire beneath the oppressive canopy above didn't sit well with Thorin. Who knew what sort of foul thing might creep toward a flame in the dark of Mirkwood. He gave the others orders to sleep close together on the path while he settled back against the roots of a tree that grew right out into the path and took the first watch.

To his surprise, and satisfaction, Bilbo unfurled his bedroll right beside Thorins outstretched legs and curled up beneath his cloak to sleep, eyes wide and dark in the night. “What do you suppose was important enough that Gandalf had to leave so urgently?” The hobbit whispered to him through the dark.

“I wouldn't like to try and guess, who knows half of the affairs wizard’s involve themselves in. Get some rest, Bilbo, I have a feeling that these next few days will be long for all of us,” Thorin replied with a soft smile that felt strange on his face. It occurred to him that he could not recall the last time he’d smiled at anyone on a whim.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Bilbo said, eyes glittering in the dark. Despite the gloom, he could tell the hobbit was grinning.

“What’s so amusing?”

“That was the first time you called me Bilbo. Not burglar, or Mister Baggins, or the hobbit.”

Thorin’s ears felt warm as he smiled once more, this time apologetically. “Yes, I suppose it is. Goodnight, Bilbo.”

“Goodnight, Thorin.” The hobbits eyes lingered on him for another moment before he rolled over to face away from him. Within what seemed like minutes, Bilbo was softly snoring, his back warm where it was pressed firmly against the bulk of Thorin’s thigh.

Night stretched on around them, and Thorin entertained himself by contemplating whether or not he should reach out and brush his fingers ever so gently through the curls of tawny hair that lay mere inches from his thick knuckles. In the end, his courage failed him, for what would he do if Bilbo woke, and asked him what on earth he was doing? It was almost too much to bear, the thought of the hobbit not returning his affections. For affected he was, very much so.

Thorin could not remember the last time he had been so possessed of another. He didn't think he had ever been. This thing, whatever it was, that he felt for the hobbit, had come out of nowhere and caught him completely off guard. His heart swelled in his chest to think of Bilbo, and his body reacted to the hobbit it a way that it had rarely done to anyone before.

It was almost a physical pain, this urge that overwhelmed him; the need to have Bilbo for his own. To have Bilbo desire him back, to turn those warm brown eyes on him and have him smile, and to know that he, Thorin, was the reason for it. He could almost feel the need for it It in his chest. He had never wanted anything more than to gather the hobbit into his arms and hold him close, counting the freckles on his pert nose as he pressed his lips to his.

A low whistle broke him out of his reverie, and his head snapped up from where he'd been gazing at Bilbo to see Nori waving at him from down the path, signalling that his watch had begun and Thorin's ended. Thorin waved back and then paused in hesitation, unsure of what to do. Bilbo was still pressed against his thigh and snoring softly, and he didn't want to wake the hobbit by moving away and most likely waking him in the process.

So, slowly as he could, Thorin slid further down so that the hobbits warm back was in front of his chest, and his short little legs were just in front of Thorin's own. He threw his cloak over them both and closed his eyes, using his own arm for a pillow. He had just began to drift off, still hyper-aware of the body in front of him, inches from his own, when Bilbo shifted.

He edged backwards, seemingly deliberately, and when his back arched into Thorin's chest the dwarf froze. He held his breath for just a moment, trying to tell if the hobbit was awake or not. Perhaps he was just trying to get warm, and could feel Thorin's heat behind him even in sleep. But what if he wasn’t, and knew exactly what he was doing?

Thorin’s questions were answered a moment later when a small hand reached around and pulled his arm forward, so that Bilbo was nestled even more snugly into him. The feeling of soft hobbit fingers around his own was the only encouragement Thorin needed, and he tightened him arm around Bilbo and squeezed him close, nestling his nose in the crook of the hobbits neck.

Neither of them spoke, and Thorin’s heart hammered a furious tattoo within his chest. He couldn't quite believe what was happening. Did the hobbit return his affections, then? Or was this common behaviour amongst hobbits?

Bilbo turned his head slightly, to that he could see Thorin from the corner of his eye. The hobbits own eyes were heavy with something – lust? He pressed his backside meaningfully into Thorin's groin and ground it there a bit, eliciting an appreciative growl from the dwarf.

Thorin was half-hard already, but wouldn't be for much longer if Bilbo kept up his ministrations.

“You’d better watch out, before I decide this cloak you're wrapped up in is in my way,” Thorn growled low and quiet in Bilbo’s ear, punctuating his words with a flick of his tongue across the soft skin beneath it and a thrust of his hips up into the little hobbits eager behind.

“Ohhh,” the hobbit moaned, grinding back into him with wanton zeal. “I was thinking much the same.” A quick wriggle of limbs later the cloak beneath Thorin’s was pulled away, and Bilbo’s hand once more found Thorin's.

Tantalisingly slow, he guided Thorin’s index finger to the cleft of his arse, which – Thorin realised with a start – was bare. His dick gave a furious throb of arousal, his hips bucking forward involuntarily towards the pucker he was now tracing with the blunt end of a thick finger.

“Fuck, Bilbo – you’re making it very hard to control myself,” Thorin's voice was hoarse and thick from arousal.

“Then don't.” Bilbo brought the finger he was playing with to his plump lips and Thorin watched as they parted and the hobbit sucked it in, swirling his tongue around it and sucking like an obscene promise.

“The others will hear. I won’t be able to control myself if I start.”

“Then we’ll be quiet about it.” The finger was tracing circles against that sinful hole again, and Thorin could feel it twitch in anticipation. Fuck, the urge to pull Bilbo to him and sink his cock deep inside the hobbit was almost too much. If Bilbo kept looking at him in such a filthy way he’d fuck the hobbit right there on the road, heedless of who was around them.

“When I fuck you, Bilbo, I don't want to be quiet. I want to hear you moaning under me when I push inside you for the first time. I want my name of your lips when you beg for me to fuck you.”

Thorin pushed his slick finger past the tight ring of muscle Bilbo was teasing him with, sinking deep into the velvety warm with one harsh stroke that made the hobbit gasp.

“Just like that. That's the noise you’ll make when I slide inside you.”

“Shit. Thorin, please!” Bilbos whisper was harsh and breathless as he pressed back onto the finger penetrating him, rocking slowly back against Thorin's thrusts.

The feeling of Bilbo’s warm insides clinging around his finger had Thorin grasping for his own dick with his free hand, aching for release. He was only vaguely aware that they must be making some kind of noise despite their best efforts but he was too lost in a haze of lust to care.

“Please, what Bilbo?” He growled, right into the hobbits ear as he pulled his finger roughly from his entrance, earning another sharp gasp. “Please, what?” He repeated. His dick was slick with precum when he pushed it between the hobbits arse cheeks and began rubbing it with promise against his hole. Thorin nudged forward ever so slightly, not enough to penetrate him, but enough for the hobbit to feel how big he was pressed against him.

“I need you to fuck me, Thorin,” Bilbo whined rutting back desperately. “I need to feel you inside me, stretching me open around you.”

Thorin's eyes darkened with barely contained lust as he rutted vigorously against the soft flesh of Bilbos arse. The warm body against him trembled with the need to be fucked, and Thorin thought he would go mad if he didn't sink himself deep inside Bilbo instantly.

“Wait a minute, then follow me to the stream we crossed a ways back,” Thorin ordered quietly, pushing Bilbo away.

“What?”

“I need to fuck you, Bilbo. I don't know when we’ll get he chance again. You're all I've thought about for the past week. You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Okay, okay. Go!”

Thorin glanced furtively around at the other dwarves who were sleeping nearby before slinking around the base of the tree and disappearing down the path.

He had barely reached the stream before he was naked, clothes strewn around him in a wide circle. His dick stood aching out in front of him, harder than he could ever remember. It was thick and heavy with blood, and his balls throbbed with the need to empty. He tugged it impatiently a few times, and was worried he wouldn't be able to stop when Bilbo arrived, wrapped in a cloak and grinning like a fiend.

The hobbit was mere steps away from Thorin when he dropped the cloak, naked to the world underneath. His own cock was more impressively sized than Thorin had imagined, still tiny in comparison to his own but relatively large for his size.

“Lie on your back,” Thorin demanded, and Bilbo scrabbled to obey. “I want to see your face when I fuck into you.”

“Like this?” Bilbo asked, lying on the ground his his knees spread apart.

“Just like that,” Thorin growled, sinking down to cover the smaller hobbit with his own body. He captured Bilbos mouth with his own and thrust his tongue in, delving and roving. It was fiery and desperate, a kiss that spoke of a craving to be touched and explored. To claim and be claimed.

Not braking it, Thorin's fingers found their way between Bilbos thighs once more, dancing around his hole for just an instant to find slickness there before plunging in. Bilbo tore his mouth away from Thorin's and yelped in alarm at the rough breaching. Thorin was relentless, two of his fingers together was larger than Bilbos own cock, and his little hole had to stretch wide to accommodate them. Thorin twitched at the sight, ready to ravish him.

Bilbos face was still screwed up at the intrusion but Thorin's mouth claimed his lips again before he could speak. He crooked his fingers towards the spot he knew would make Bilbo stop scowling and was rewarded with a moan into his mouth.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Thorin rumbled against the hobbits throat, sucking above his pulse as he pulled his fingers out. Bilbo whined at the loss, a needy, slutty sound that drove Thorin wild. He barely hesitated to settle himself heavily between the hobbits stretched out thighs, savouring the sight of him as he lined the thick head of his cock against the small, tight entrance to Bilbos body. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Thorin, fuck! Please – f – fuck me!” Bilbo jabbed his hips involuntarily, skittish with he need to be filled.

Grasping the soft firmness of Bilbos buttocks in each hand, Thorin shoved inside roughly, burying himself whole with one thrust, and Bilbo roared in agony. “FUCK! GO EASY!”

“Ssssh, love, ssssh,” Thorin crooned, sucking the flesh beneath Bilbo ear as he loomed over him once more. “It’ll pass.”

Thorin didn't wait to see if it passed or not before he began to move, so intense was his need. Around him, Bilbos channel was warm and welcoming. Despite the sharp oohs and aahs the hobbit made with each thrust, he clenched and relaxed around Thorin's dick.

“Does that feel good, baby? Do I feel good inside you?”

“Fuck yes, Thorin!”

Thorin snapped his hips faster as Bilbo loosened up beneath him, pulling almost the way out before driving back in with all the force he could muster. He wanted to claim Bilbo so wholly that the hobbit would never forget who he belonged to. He wanted to fill him up with his seed to that the hobbits belly was round and full with it. He wanted to fuck, claim, devour Bilbo and breed him so thoroughly that he'd forget anyone else existed.

“Who’s ass is this!” Thorin roared as he fucked into the heat. “Tell me who owns you.”

“Fuck Thorin, you. I’m yours!”

“That's right, you're fucking mine Bilbo. I’m going to fuck so full of my cum you’ll be splitting with it.”

His balls began tightening as if in response and Bilbo began contracting around him. As his lover spilled his release between them, Thorin continued his ruthless rut into Bilbo, claiming his hole. He swiped his hand over the milky hobbit-cum that splattered them both and brought his fingers to his mouth, needing to taste Bilbo. Their eyes met as Thorin sucked his own fingers dry and swallowed down Bilbo's cum before capturing the hobbits mouth in a sloppy kiss.

“Come for me Thorin,” Bilbo moaned, clenching tightly around his dick. “Fill me up with your cum.”

Thorin did just that, pumping his hips furiously and gathering Bilbo up in his arms as he spurted his release deep inside the hobbits slick warmth. “I love you, Bilbo,” he grumbled into his lovers ear.

 


End file.
